Gently Understanding
by ch-ch-ch-cheska
Summary: While hiding out in the ambulance, Stiles can only hope that Cora will be okay. Her eyes open for one moment in order for her to know one thing. "Stiles, why are you even here? Why do you care? I'm dying. I feel like shit. You could be out there helping Derek. Helping Scott. Saving the next sacrifice. Something. Why are you still here?" (Stora)


**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Teen Wolf," nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

**Takes place after Stiles gives Cora mouth-to-mouth. Notes are at the end!**

* * *

I stared at the unconscious body laid across the gurney. It was getting colder and colder in the back of this ambulance, but I'd rather be cold than dead. Sadly, Cora Hale is about to be both. I looked down at the girl I had helped revive just moments ago, the girl whose body I just vented to—cried to. The girl who needed to wake up and be better and sarcastic and irrational and hasty and all Hale-like again.

Her chest was rising and falling slowly. I reached my hand out to brush the stray hairs away from her face. _Gently, Stiles. Gently. _I pulled my hand back before deciding to rest it on her lonely hand. "I- I keep thinking about my dad. What's gonna happen to him? Do you think he's alive?" I cried. I licked my lips before using my free hand to attempt to wipe the worry from the flesh of my face. "Cora, I just… I really wish you were awake right now."

My hand was squeezed gently, as if a ghost had come to comfort me. Which wouldn't really surprise me seeing as my best friend is a werewolf, my English teacher is this death-causing thing that Isaac Lahey seemed to stare at a little _too_ much, and the guy who vaccinated the puppy I had when I was a kid is a counselor to the supernatural.

"Stiles, why are you even here? Why do you care? I'm dying. I feel like shit. You could be out there helping Derek. Helping Scott. Saving the next sacrifice. Something. Why are you still here?"

Her voice was weak, but the demanding, angry tone was ever-present.

"Cora, I'm here because I care about you, okay? Why is it so hard for you to get it into your pretty little werewolf head that someone is concerned about you? I care because I know how it feels to lose someone you love—someone you never thought you would lose," I swallowed. "My mom can never be brought back. I know that. But what we're trying to do tonight is to keep you here and to keep my dad alive. Stop being so selfish for once; let me take care of you. Just this once."

Her gaze softened; I could see a faint hint of gold in her eyes. Slowly , she brought her other hand over to rest on top of mine. She closed her eyes for a moment. I thought she might have been fading into unconsciousness again. Thankfully, she didn't.

"Tell me about your mom," Cora whispered.

My eyes left hers to glance up… toward my mom. "She was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes like mine. Dad said that, thankfully, I got her good looks—"

"But you got his heart," she interrupted.

I disagreed with her. In my eyes I was a coward. My dad came face to face with a Darach and had it at gunpoint. He had a knife or machete-thing in his chest and he _still _couldn't kill the beast. I would have run at first sight of the thing. My dad was my hero. There's no way our hearts are the same.

So I continued, "I never met anyone who _didn't_ like Mom. Even if you were mad at her, you still loved her and showed up for the fundraiser she planned for the day care over by the elementary school where I went. If we had a new neighbor, she would bake them cookies and make me go with her for introductions. Of course, I didn't have the attention span—or the Adderall—to listen to anything she was telling me to do so I ate those cookies. But she was always prepared and made a second batch."

It was quiet again. But this silence was not as long as the last. Thankfully.

Cora's eyes seemed more golden than they had been earlier. Gently, as gently as before, I wiped a stray tear away. "Your mom sounds perfect," she smiled. And it was a genuine smile. It was one that brought warmth and comfort and _something_—that _something_ that not many other things can bring.

"In my eyes, she was. Still is. Even though she isn't here right physically, she's always with me," I sighed, looking up again.

"How cliché, Stilinski. But I understand. I feel the same way about my mom too. I miss her. You know, Derek was somewhat of a mama's boy?" Cora chuckled.

Oh, that makes perfect sense with the story that her uncle told us, the one with the eyes and the girl and all that. But this was _Derek_ we were talking about. "Derek? Derek Hale? Scary Derek Hale with the claws and that face he has when he transforms with the whole 'RAHH!' thing? Are you sure?"

She nodded slowly. "No shit, I'm sure. He's my brother, Stiles."

"And he would lose everything if he lost you. So you gotta stay with me, Cora, okay? Stay alive. For me?" I begged. She probably knew it, but I don't know what I would end up doing if I lost another person I cared about. I don't know what my mind would do or what wolfsbane would make me see or anything. There would be no Plan B or C or D or E because there wouldn't be much else to live for.

"I thought I was supposed to stay alive for Derek?" she whispered.

My hand reached out to stroke her cheek gently. Gently. "No, you're my friend too. I need you," I cried.

"Stiles… thank…"

Her eyes closed. Her voice faded. And I was left alone to speak with her unconscious self again.

* * *

**I love Stora. **

**Although Stora was a little out of character, I like the conversation that they are able to have intimately. The two have some sort of bond. I feel like it will get deeper as the season progresses, which makes me happy.**


End file.
